


Endless

by MumblePhantomFox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, gwen and merlin being bros, so many freaking emotions, there is merwaine but not a whole lot of romance sorry, this starts out as like nothing but manpain and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MumblePhantomFox/pseuds/MumblePhantomFox
Summary: ((Series Finale Spoilers)) Although Merlin would've liked to have thrown in the towel, what he wanted to be an end was only yet another beginning. And with new royalty making waves, magical threats continuing to surface, and a new generation to protect, Albion has no intention of letting him disappear anytime soon.





	1. Stranger Things

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this story for almost two years now, it's about heckin' time I actually started posting it... That being said, I apologize in advance for what will probably be slow updates. Hopefully they'll be worth it anyway. :'D
> 
> I have a lot of ideas that are all episodic enough to justify a series but we're just gonna make it one reeeaaallyyyy loooooooooong story because that's just how we're gonna roll. This begins only a week after Arthur's death and I have no idea when it's going to end because I have That many ideas. So we're just gonna go for it and burn that bridge when we get to it, mkay? Mkay!
> 
> One more thing, I've linked to suggested listening at the beginning of each chapter. There will usually be at least two songs there, one with lyrics and one without. The ones with lyrics may not always fit tone-wise (but Will fit lyrically if not), so if that throws you off or you're like me and can't read while listening to words or you just can't stand the song I picked, then there's also going to be an instrumental track too which will fit the tone. Or if you'd rather just ignore that then that's totally fine too. ;D
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the first chapter!

 

* * *

[Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons  
](https://youtu.be/yKlgVKjLyn0) [Someone Like You by Adele (Kyle Landry Piano Cover)](https://youtu.be/LX3_sPX1HXw)

* * *

The day was dismal.

Not that any passing newcomers would be able to see that; Camelot seemed golden from the outside. The lower town was at the peak of its midday bustle while the upper crust enjoyed a pleasant lunch. The white stones of the castle walls hardly defended the royal court from the sun’s intense heat, and in fact it was much more pleasant in the light breeze outside, as the knights had discovered during their daily training session. All seemed well. However, the passing figure that paused at the kingdom’s forested horizon and hesitantly laid eyes on it’s impressive facade was no newcomer. And he wasn’t fooled, either.

Perhaps it was just in his mind, but from the moment he set foot within the city’s protective walls, he could sense the drowsiness of a mournful people. The grief of losing their beloved king had settled in the heart of each subject like a black plague, and although there were no red crosses marking the doorsteps of those suffering, each of them was marked in ways imperceptible to the uninitiated—the downward angle of their gazes as they walked, the air of thoughtful rememberance which stifled nonessential conversation...

Many were not old enough to know a time before Uther’s tyranny, and all mourned the loss of the young King Arthur as they celebrated and remembered him as a considerably more fair and just ruler.

As the figure passed through town, he made it a point to not see those signs of mourning, his eyes trained narrowly on the space directly in front of him as he proceeded directly towards the castle at the heart of the city. His passing was unhindered, but he still noticed the murmur that greeted his arrival as it passed from guard to guard, purposefully seeking out a certain few individuals.

He had hardly stepped into the courtyard when a frayed old man came ambling out of the castle as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him.

_“Merlin!”_

The stranger let himself be taken into the man’s desperate embrace. After a moment, he gently returned it. “Gaius.” The word was an emotionless mumble.

Gaius held the stranger out at arm’s length once he had finally released him. He seemed to struggle to find the words he needed. “I’m glad you’re safe... I’ve missed you. We all have.”

The stranger’s expression relaxed with a mild sigh at that, but he didn’t manage a smile. “I’m not sure I’ll be staying,” he murmured, “but couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.” It was so soon... He was feeling just as alienated here in Camelot as he had been for the past week in Ealdor, but at the same time, he knew he owed at least Gaius some peace of mind. If not for his former guardian, he would’ve rather have just dropped off the face of the earth.

The smile that admission earned was so fake that the stranger knew that Gaius understood, even if he didn’t like it. Despite his understanding, however, Gaius would not be giving the stranger the chance to leave again any time soon; before he even knew what was happening, he was sitting at Gaius’s table with a lunch he had never asked for in front of him.

He was too agitated to even consider eating, but Gaius’s troubled gaze and set jaw worked better to make him give it a shot than even the orders of a king. He managed just one sip of the soup in front of him, but otherwise merely toyed with it with his spoon. “Have I missed anything?” he asked as an excuse to neglect his food if nothing else.

Gaius hesitated. “Gwen is doing as well as can be expected... Many in the court have accepted her as their sovereign. She is a woman, but most remember her wisdom and are willing to trust her.”

“But...?” He had the especially sickening feeling that Gaius was hiding something.

“There are some who remain skeptical, as we all expected.” When the stranger scoffed Gaius smiled, but only just barely. “That’s how the rest of us feel. Unfortunately...”

“...What?”

Gaius debated with himself generously before finally giving a small sigh. “Those who remained skeptical were plenty enough that...certain measures had to be taken. Meaning...”

Another sigh. _‘He must really not want to say this,’_ thought the stranger.

“Leon is king now.”

If he were capable of expressing more emotion than exhaustion, the stranger might have gawked at this. “...What?”

Gaius was much more quick to elaborate than he had been to first speak. “For all intents and purposes, Gwen is still very much in power. I have spoken with her a great many times, and she has assured me that Leon is by no means taking over from her. He respects her and her judgement; he knows Arthur trusted her with good reason, and he has seen her wisdom himself as well. They have been exercising power in equal measure ever since he was given the position.”

“Hm.” He couldn’t let himself think of the implications of all of this or else he would have been sick. Instead, he just nodded. “What else?” Did he even want to know?

Again, hesitation. The thought of yet more news equally or more distressing than that which he had already heard made his stomach twist in apprehension.

“What are you avoiding?”

Gaius sighed, suddenly showing every one of his many years in his eyes as he avoided the stranger’s gaze. “Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine went out in search of Morgana.”

_Oh please Goddess, no..._

“They’re still alive, but Gwaine...he was badly injured. I don’t believe he’ll make it through.”

The stranger stood so abruptly that he nearly tripped over his seat. _“Where?”_

Gaius’s gaze purposefully wandered over his shoulder, and the stranger followed it at a sprint into his old room. Sure enough, laying in his bed was Sir Gwaine, lying neatly on his back with his arms at his sides.

The stranger stood helplessly at the side of the bed. He didn’t know what to do. The man, one of his dearest friends, was hardly breathing. The stranger’s raucous entrance hadn’t even caused him to stir. Gaius ambled in at a much slower pace, finding the stranger’s gaze on him the moment he entered the room. “He hasn’t woken since he was returned to the castle. Percival originally thought he was dead. There’s hardly a sign otherwise. His pulse is weak, his breathing is shallow. He reacts to nothing. There’s evidence that he was victim to the Nathair...”

“Elyan survived that, surely Gwaine will, too...”

Gaius’s heart broke a little more at the dejected statement. “Merlin...” He set his hand gently on the young man’s back. “...he wasn’t in the best way before he went after Morgana to begin with. Maybe if he had been treated immediately after it happened—”

He was cut off by the stranger abruptly leaving the room. For a fleeting moment Gaius thought he was leaving for good, before his heart could be further harmed, but he soon heard the unmistakable sound of the pages of heavy books being roughly searched.

He chose not to interrupt his ward. Even if he had wanted to try, he would have had no idea how. The young warlock was already neck-deep in a stack of medical books, searching their contents with a single-minded determination that would never yield to reason. Sir Gwaine was still breathing, and until he stopped, Gaius knew that Merlin wouldn’t give up on him. (And even that might not prove enough to stop him, he thought with dread.)

Unsure there was anything he could do even if he wanted to, Gaius opted to leave him to his fevered search. If anyone could save Gwaine, it would be Merlin. Gaius was already hoping and praying that he succeeded.

He didn’t want Merlin to have to endure another heartbreak. And even moreso, didn’t want to wonder whether he even could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have three more chapters written, and will probably be posting those once a day until I run out of them, so stay tuned! Thanks for reading!


	2. Try, Try Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has returned to Camelot, at least for the time being. But he's not the only one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and/or commented on the first chapter! It really made my day. :'D
> 
> And as promised, a day later, here's the second chapter! This is a longer one and the tone shifts, so the first two song suggestions are for the first half and the other three (an extra lyrical option for anyone who's sick of Mumford & Sons sorry xD) are for the second part after the page break. Make Me Cry really fits those two right now lyrically, even if the tone doesn't really match most of that part. Hmmm... Anyways,

* * *

[Believe by Mumford and Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BbnstLUfzg)  
[Someone Like You by Adele (Kyle Landry Piano Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LX3_sPX1HXw)  
—————  
[Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons](https://youtu.be/sXzDu071RdQ)  
[Make Me (Cry) by Noah Cyrus  
](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwX4wrYLwfU)[The Downed Dragon by John Powell](https://youtu.be/JC-LcPyWWSU)

* * *

 

Hours came and went by hardly noticed until midnight finally saw Merlin’s hand outstretched, once again, over Gwaine’s chest. He read an incantation from the heavy tomb spread open in his other palm, then watched Gwaine’s face expectantly.

After a moment of nothing, he tried again, adjusting his inflection and willing his power into the words. He thought he felt the spell work, but still Gwaine did not stir.

Merlin put the book down with a _thump_ , steeled himself, and tried again. Still nothing.

He gave it one more try, the incantation sounding more like a desperate plea, before collapsing to his knees at the bedside, his hands over his eyes. He could feel himself trembling. He wasn’t crying—he was sure he’d forgotten how over the past week. He was practically numb, aside from the vice around his heart and throat. He was exhausted, he was worn, and again he wasn’t good enough. He rubbed at his eyes, unwilling to watch his friend die. The past several hours had seemed like an eternity, stretched even farther by the urgency of his friend’s condition until every second weighed on his shoulders like an hour wasted.

He didn’t look up when the door gently creaked open, nor when Gaius placed a hand on the top of his head. It was meant to comfort him, but did nothing to assuage the sinking numbness in Merlin’s heart.

He forced himself to take a breath and his hands dropped into his lap. “Nothing’s working. I don’t—”

His voice caught in his throat. Gaius stroked his head once, and he could easily imagine him shaking his head. “His pulse is stronger than it was this morning. He is breathing easier as well. You’ve helped him more in one day than I have been able to all week.”

“He hasn’t woken! I have failed!” Merlin snapped. He instantly regretted it, shaking his head and lowering his gaze to the floor. “ _Am failing._ I am failing...” He couldn’t give up; Gwaine deserved so much more than that. Ever since they had first met, he had known he could trust Gwaine. Gwaine never questioned him, never doubted him... It was why he had chosen him as his escort to the Crystal Cave. Gwaine trusted him, and he trusted Gwaine. “I’m sorry...”

Arthritis be damned, Gaius lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed so that he could pull Merlin into a hug. Merlin fought it for only a moment; as much as he wanted to reject the comforting gesture, he just couldn’t. He let his uncle hold his head against his chest, the other hand reaching around his shoulders to rub his back in small circles. Merlin closed his eyes, appreciating the gesture even though it wasn’t really helping. Gaius’s embrace had always calmed him down in the past, and right now he figured that Gaius needed it just as much as he should have. So he let him. It wasn’t as if he could think of anything else to try for Gwaine at the moment anyway.

It was true that the knight had improved since Merlin had begun attempting to heal him, but no matter how steadily his heart beat, he showed no sign of waking up. As far as he knew, he was only treating the symptoms. And not even the one symptom he wanted to treat the most.

Gwaine wasn’t awake and showed no sign of even stirring, and Merlin couldn’t stop feeling as if he were already dead.

 

Camelot never slept. Even at the darkest hours of the night, even when all but a few of the most determined night owls were in bed, guards patrolled most of the citadel. Even the lower town was ventured through every hour or so, and the rest increasingly more frequently the closer one ventured to the castle.

There were holes in every route the guards cycled through. It took dedication and a keen eye to find many of them, and even more skill to properly exploit them, but he had done it once already. It had been infuriating to leave afterwards without the revenge he had sought, but that was why he was here now.

Even he knew that Emrys would have had to come back to Camelot sooner or later.

And so he had waited. And then, at midday, he had sensed that immense power that only the likes of Emrys himself kept bottled up. He had caught sight of him just as he had walked in the citadel’s protective walls, and so had had to wait once again for night to fall and afford him some semblance of cover before he could proceed.

Finally, through darkness and shadow, he slunk through alleys and behind homes. He paused as a guard passed obliviously, and then limped quietly forward behind his back. It was slow going, but worth it. He made it to the castle within the hour, and everyone was none the wiser.

Next was the tricky part; he would never be able to get _into_ the castle without alerting someone of a presence. The guards were too numerous here. Fortunately, he didn’t have very far to go. His best shot was to just—

A loud noise from the opposite end of the courtyard distracted him momentarily. Every guard in sight predictably ran for it—and with good reason, as it sounded like something even bigger than himself was causing the commotion—leaving several ways inside clear. He looked back over, ready to seize his chance, and saw him...

Emrys.

The young sorcerer crossed the yard only meters ahead of him. He could see his blue eyes on him, and yet he walked slowly, purposefully...

Emrys was leading him, and he would gladly follow.

Through corridors and passageways, several of them hidden. Every time someone appeared to impede their progress, they were either suddenly distracted by a sound or movement, or else simply fell asleep where they stood until the unusual pair was safely past. Deeper and deeper into the castle they went, descending many flights until they were in the dungeons. Even then they did not stop. Emrys led deeper than even that, picking up and lighting a torch as they descended what became the last two flights of stairs before a cold, drafty cavern opened before them, and Emrys finally stopped.

He had barely had the chance to set the torch safely on the ground before he was barreled into. A sturdy flap of a pair of wings carried him up onto the same rocky perch Kilgharrah had frequently occupied so many years ago, and there he was pinned on his back by a strong pair of claws digging into his shoulder and chest. He gasped for the wind that had been knocked out of him, and saw Aithusa looming over him with an icy blue glare.

He had only commanded the young dragon to leave the battlefield. Aithusa could tell from the weary resignation he saw in his eyes that he had been expecting this for quite some time.

For a moment, he just stared at the sorcerer beneath his talons. His lips curled up in hatred as he thought of what had brought them to this moment, of his best friend lying on Mordred’s grave while the earth soaked up her blood, of how he hadn’t even been there with her as her spirit left this world, of how he had been betrayed... He snarled down at the man who had named him, and he hated him. Morgana had been the only one there for him, and she would be avenged if it was the last thing he did.

He snorted hot ash into the young man's face and reared back with a low growl, filling his lungs again. Emrys closed his eyes and released a breath, and Aithusa could feel him relax beneath his talons. He was going to burn this murderer to a crisp...

He wasn’t sure what made him hold his breath... He looked down at this sorcerer, and the sight of him meekly accepting his fate stilled him.

Aithusa hated him! He _did!_ He hated what he had done, and he wanted him to suffer for it. He _deserved_ to. Why should he get to live when his gentle, kind friend was rotting? The dragon’s eyes stung, and he released the jet of flames into the air with a cry.

He dropped down to his haunches, glaring down at this pathetic man through the tears forming in his eyes. Emrys wouldn’t meet his gaze. The only sound for several moments was Aithusa’s heavy breathing. This should have been easy... He had already made up his mind!

_‘And yet,’_ some pesky part of his conscience saw fit to remind him, _‘if I kill Emrys, there won’t be a single person left in the realm who knows my name...’_

He had endured loneliness. Before Morgana, he had flitted across the countryside alone. He hadn’t known any differently at that point. He merely stayed away from humans, and he was safe. He had only dared go near one of his own volition once, when she had collapsed, hurting and abandoned. He had empathized with her, for like him, she feared for her life among humans. She had never feared him. They had understood each other. And now she was gone...

“...I won’t apologize,” Emrys croaked, disrupting Aithusa’s thoughts. “Not for killing her. She has terrorized the whole kingdom for years, and I was destined to stop her or die trying. I’m only sorry that you got caught in the crossfire.”

Aithusa snarled at him and his words. What could he know? He lived in the heart of Camelot without fear. He had friends and destiny on his side, while Aithusa had grown up with nothing. His grip tightened, and Emrys grimaced as the points of his talons dug deeper into his shoulder. He thought he would enjoy that more... The longer this went on, however, the more pointless this entire situation seemed.

Emrys swallowed hard before speaking again, his words more ragged from stifling his cries of pain. “I understand, Aithusa! What you’re going through, I really do,” he began, only to be cut off. Aithusa’s grip had tightened once more, and then the young dragon had flicked a paw that nearly sent him off the edge of the mound. Aithusa turned his back on him, blocking out the sounds of his labored breathing. He could feel the sorcerer’s eyes on him still.

“...You’re alone now, you’re scared, your best friend has just been killed. You aren’t sure of your purpose in this world, and you still have to hide from everyone because they would never understand, because they would kill you soon as look at you just for what you are. _I know,_ Aithusa,” Emrys continued, talking to Aithusa’s tail. “My best friend has just been killed... I’m alone, and scared, and I have no idea what to do. I have never been welcome here, and certainly not now that Gwen—” He took a shuddering breath. “The only friend I have left is on his deathbed, and at this point I honestly believe that death would be a blessing...”

Aithusa...glanced back at Emrys, and saw that several tears had rolled down his cheeks as well.

“I want to help you, Aithusa,” Emrys pleaded. “Whatever I need to do. You can torture me, kill me, just fly off, I don’t care. What do you need?”

Aithusa snarled at him again, refusing to acknowledge his own tears. He turned back away from Emrys, but otherwise did not move. Even if he could speak, he couldn’t say. He didn’t know how to answer that question, let alone what to do next... He had come here with every intent of killing this man, and had been merely seconds away from doing so. He didn’t understand... This should have been simple. But it wasn’t. Nothing in his life had been...

They sat unmoving for what must have been several minutes. The only sound was their quavering breaths, and some unseen dripping from deep within this freezing cavern.

Emrys stood, clutching his bleeding shoulder, and Aithusa glanced over at him again. All this time his thoughts had been whirling too fast to pinpoint a single one...

“You can stay down here... Kilgharrah used to. Nobody comes down here, and even if they did, there’s plenty of hiding places. You’ll be safe,” he said quietly. “I’ll bring you whatever food I can get away with.”

Emrys waited, but Aithusa’s only acknowledgement was to stare blankly ahead. And when Emrys limped away, Aithusa didn’t stop him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned again tomorrow for the next part!


	3. Dear Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it's not too late...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still today for me, I'm not a terrible person yet. Thanks again for all of the reads, kudos, and comments!! :'D I'm terrible about responding to them because I'm shy but I do read all of them and I appreciate them a lot!!! <3

* * *

 [Nothing Left to Say by Imagine Dragons](https://youtu.be/Q6zqH6qKaTU)  
[Doomsday Theme by Murray Gold](https://youtu.be/FLl0U0Uk_z8)

* * *

 

_ ‘I’ve failed...’ _

Gaius awoke to the sound of his ward accidentally knocking a cup off of the table. He was surprised the mere sound of Merlin’s steps hadn’t woken him; just the other day a guard’s startled shout from just down the hall had been enough to rouse him. His hearing may have been going for some time, but he had been on edge and wasn’t sleeping well...

And it would seem that Merlin hadn’t been sleeping at all. Gaius looked over at him blearily and saw him sitting at the table, hunched slightly with his hand grasping his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. He was out of breath.

Gaius was already getting up. “What’s wrong, Merlin?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said hastily. “I just couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed.”

But Gaius wasn’t fooled, and Merlin had no choice but to allow him to check his obvious wounds. Aithusa really hadn’t been planning on letting up... There were deep cuts on one shoulder that had only barely stopped soaking his shirt and scarf with blood, and a few more minor scratches on the other. Thankfully, none of his ribs had been broken... It felt as if most of them had been bruised, however; Aithusa may have been smaller than Kilgharrah, but he was no featherweight.

Gaius balked at the damage. “What did all this?!”

Merlin just sighed, contemplating whether it was worth it to lie about this. “...Aithusa confronted me. He...isn’t happy about what I did to Morgana.”

Gaius had to snap himself out of his stunned staring before he could gather up some supplies to treat the wounds. “Then I daresay you’re lucky to be alive right now.”

Merlin bit back the first remark that tried to trip off his tongue and instead said, “Only because he let me go.” He grimaced as Gaius helped him out of his shirt and jacket. “He—  _ Agh! _ ...He was ready to kill me, but something stopped him. I’m not sure what, perhaps he realized that I’m the only one left who won’t try to kill him on sight...” He paused, lingering on that statement with his heavy heart in his throat. Unsure of what else to say, he just shook his head and looked at the floor.

Gaius eyed him sadly as he ground some herbs into a poultice. “Where is he now?”

“Unless he’s flown off, in Kilgharrah’s old prison. I didn’t want him to get himself caught and killed by anyone in the castle.”

“Wise,” Gaius remarked, beginning to gently apply the poultice. Merlin focused on his breathing.

There was nothing he could do for the bruised ribs (fortunately Merlin was right about none of them being broken), but Gaius treated and dressed the rest of Merlin’s wounds. The look on his face when he took a step back and saw most of Merlin’s torso covered in enough pink-spotted bandages to rival Arthur’s worst days almost compelled Merlin to endure the pain required to put his shirt back on. Instead, he ducked his head and started towards his old room.

“Merlin.”

He stopped and glanced back at Gaius.

“Please get some sleep?”

He turned and went through the door. They both knew that any sleep he got would be purely accidental, but it never hurt to try. Gaius sighed and went back to his bed.

In truth, he thought as he lay there awake, Merlin shouldn't have had to continue staying up at Gwaine’s side. He was no longer in any danger of dying. His pulse was strong, his breathing was easy, Merlin’s spells had treated most of the perceptible problems... If he hadn't known what had landed Gwaine in that bed, he would've said he were just sleeping.

He should be awake, but it was as if...

Gaius got back up, quickly put on his robes, and headed towards the castle's library.

 

Merlin had better luck staying awake with the persistent stinging of his shoulder. Any time he would nod off, his wounds would flair in a painful reminder to not make any careless movements. He didn't blame Aithusa at all, but that didn't make him heal any faster.

His thoughts were sluggish from sleep deprivation to the point where he ended up staring blankly at the wall for longer than he actually spent thinking. He hardly knew what to think anymore. The thoughts he did end up dwelling on seemed disjointed and irrelevant. Instinct alone had guided him to Ealdor a week ago, and only his mother's persistence (he refused to think of it as begging) had sent him rather unwillingly back to Camelot. In truth, he wasn't sure what to even do now, let alone where to go next. Everything felt wrong.

He looked up at the creak of the door. He had assumed Gaius had gone back to bed... But there he was, standing in the doorway with a small, worn book splayed in his palm.

Wait... A book? Merlin slowly stood, his expression weary and lethargic but still obviously curious. If Gaius had found this book the middle of the night...

“Did you think of something?”

Gaius’s lips were set in a thin straight line as he slowly approached Merlin. He had found something, and he was hesitating. Meaning it was either a shot in the dark, or it was stupidly dangerous. Typically the latter.

Gaius proffered the book to him, and Merlin quickly looked over the open pages. The handwriting was the quick, messy scrawl of someone who had too many thoughts in a short time to write them slowly, and the pages had feathered from being so frequently turned and held open long before any of the words they held had reached the public eye. As Merlin skimmed the aging text, he gleaned that whoever had written this had spent some time as an outsider amongst druids. “A journal. Why are you showing me this?”

“The travel diary of Gregory Dunwich. Not an ounce of magic in him, but that didn't stop him from learning about it,” Gaius explained. “He traveled across several kingdoms and filled several of these journals with as much knowledge as he could about the magical creatures and practices he encountered. It is by no means complete, but he does tell of a time in this particular journal when he was left for dead by a hermit and saved by the druids.”

If he hadn't been painfully aware of how much time he had been wasting, Merlin might have asked for the rest of that story. “What did they do?”

“Evidently he had been put under a curse of the hermit's own devising; he was trapped within his own mind, and could not be awoken by any known methods. The druids had found him before he could be preyed upon by anything else, but they could not awaken him because only the hermit knew how to counter his spell. So instead, one of the druids, and I quote, 'reached into his mind and retrieved him.’

“Just like Gwaine,” Gaius continued, “Gregory was perfectly healthy apart from being stuck in his slumber.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he looked down at Gwaine. “If I can find out what the druids did, I could save him...”

Gaius couldn't have stopped him from running towards the stables even if he had tried.


	4. Where There's A Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin follows his lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm late. x'D In my defense, I've been dead and didn't already have songs for this one for some reason so yeah. I'm also a terrible person HGSDUILHGDS
> 
> Anyways, here's the last of the chapters I already have written for now.

* * *

 [Bird is in the Birdcage by Dirt Poor Robins  
](https://youtu.be/G0xAraEYdjQ) [ Obliviate by Alexandre Desplat ](https://youtu.be/7RkRlgYGdbY)

* * *

 Merlin was fairly certain that there was a group of druids residing somewhere in the Forest of Ascetir. With any luck, they would still be there... It had been more than a year since he had last encountered them, but right now, they were his best chance. In his urgency he pushed his horse much harder than he would be proud of later. For now, however, he hardly spared that any thought. Time was of the essence, and he had wasted enough of it on dead ends and failures already. He stopped to rest only when his horse required him to, and managed to reach the border after two full days of riding.

Finally, with the Forest of Ascetir stretching seemingly without end in front of him, he realized he didn’t have much of a plan. For the time being, his best bet seemed to be the first thing that came to mind, at least until he could think of anything better. He urged his weary horse forward at a canter with a click of his tongue and a squeeze from his heels. Once they were again weaving swiftly through the trees, he loosened his hold on the horse’s reins so it could gallop along its own way, closed his eyes, and focused. He was not skilled at casting out his thoughts towards others like the druids, so instead he simply focused on the magic around him. The earth and trees and even some of the animals all carried a certain magic within them, and the same would go for the Druids. Power like theirs was contagious; its influence touched everything around them, revitalizing plants, fertilizing the soil, and rejuvenating life everywhere they went. He had sensed this influence often enough by now to know it from leagues away. So long as luck was on his side (for once), he would be able to find the druids.

 

Whether something actually had been on his side in the end was debatable. He did find the druids, but it wasn't until after several more hours of riding, following even the slightest spikes in the energies around him until he finally found a noticeable trail. Their presence was strong enough here that he tightened his hold on the reins, opened his eyes, and set the horse in that direction with renewed determination. He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of a ridge and found himself looking down at a Druid encampment.

Already the attention of the head of the camp, Iseldir, was on him; just as he had found the druids, they surely had sensed him coming. “Welcome, Emrys.” Merlin dismounted and approached them on foot, leading his horse behind him.

"Do you know anything of the man Gregory Dunwich?" he asked without pausing to return the pleasantries.

If Iseldir was offended by his abruptness at all, he didn't show it. "Of course. What is it that you wish to know?"

"He once wrote of a time he was trapped within his own mind, and said that it was a druid who awoke him. I need to know how you did that, please, one of my best friends is in danger," Merlin answered, his demanding tone quickly turning very nearly into begging as he remembered the stakes that were still bearing down on him. He'd been gone hours already, what if he was about to return to find Gwaine beyond his help? Even the mere thought was enough to make his heart pound fearfully, and that was clearly reflected in his tone and urgency.

Iseldir eyed Merlin curiously. "Do you know the cause of your friend's condition?"

"The Nathair. I've treated every injury that I could he seems to be in perfect health but he's still asleep and I can't—" he had to pause for a moment as his breath caught, "—nothing I've tried has awakened him."

Iseldir nodded slowly, looking grave. "The Nathair tortures the mind, not the body. It inflicts pain of a kind which most struggle to understand, overwhelming the victim with agony so intense that it overwhelms both mind and body. Very few survive this, and those who do are often reduced to mere shells of who they once were. But I do believe there is still a chance at rescuing your friend, assuming he is as good of a friend as you claim," he explained, Merlin's focus entirely on him. "There is a spell we can teach to you which will allow you to, for want of a better phrase, enter the subconscious mind of another living being," the leader of the druids informed him. "But it will be dangerous, even for someone of your skill."

Merlin just nodded, and Iseldir smiled slightly, understanding without Merlin needing to say a thing. "Performing the spell itself is simple but draining and requires complete focus," he continued. "The true challenge is using it to rescue your friend. You must find out what is affecting him so and, if possible, guide him past it."

That was...cryptic, Merlin couldn't help but think, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"There is no greater torture than that which we create for ourselves," Iseldir said, but Merlin hardly found that to be a clarification. "But if what I fear is true, then I think you may just have a chance at succeeding here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that one was kinda short RIP. I was originally going to have this and the next chapter be one chapter, but the next part wasn't coming along quick enough so I split it up so that I could get to posting this sometime this century. I'm not sure when the next part will be finished, but I have started on it and Stuff Actually Happens in it so keep a look out!!! Thanks again to everyone who's read this so far and thankyouthankyouTHANKYOU everyone who left comments! <3


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